


Even Super Soldiers Need a Hug and a Cup of Tea Sometimes

by MabtheWinterQueen



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes is Mentally Ill, Could Be Read As Queerplatonic, Everyone lives and is happy, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Give Bucky Barnes a Hug 2k19, I Swear A Lot, Implied Supernatural Beings, Let’s All Agree That Endgame Sucked, Light Angst, Mental Illness, Natasha is awesome, Not even light swearing, Or Even Romantic, Or Science Experiments, Original Characters are Chiller Than Expected, PTSD, So I’m Retconning Both It and Infinity War, T for swearing, THEY’RE ALL FRIENDS, Y’all Decide, go nuts, or aliens, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabtheWinterQueen/pseuds/MabtheWinterQueen
Summary: “Steve says Bucky needs an apartment. Steve says he needs to reintegrate into society. Steve says he loves him but he seriously needs his own space.Did his own space really have to be so goddamn weird, though?”Aka Bucky Barnes needs a hug and I created OCs for the sole purpose of being that.Aka Bucky Barnes: Inspiring disabled children since 1925.





	Even Super Soldiers Need a Hug and a Cup of Tea Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Could be Steve/Bucky if you squint. BE WARNED: I’M NOT KIDDING ABOUT THE MENTAL ILLNESS AND PTSD

Steve says Bucky needs an apartment. Steve says he needs to reintegrate into society. Steve says he loves him but he seriously needs his own space.

  
Did his own space really have to be so goddamn weird, though? The apartment is nice. Clean, modern, obviously not paid for by Tony Stark, which he appreciates the most. It’s small, meant for one person, which is how he likes it.

No, the weird stuff starts with his neighbors.

Most people nowadays cower in fear. He’s the goddamn Winter Soldier: why wouldn’t they be afraid? He’s used to people shying away from him on the street, stammering when they meet him, all but running away from interactions.

He’s not used to the guy who casually gives him a head-nod and asks him what he thinks of the begonias. (What the hell even are begonias???) 

The man(?) is sitting outside the door next to Bucky’s, lazily dozing in the light from the window at the end of the hall. Bucky hadn’t even known they were conscious until they asked.

“What?” 

The person stretches a little, back cracking loudly, and opens their eyes halfway. “The begonias. On the windowsill. Are they good or should I get new flowers? I wasn’t sure. I don’t even like begonias, really. They’re just kinda... meh.”

Bucky stares a little and slowly replies, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them.”

”Haven’t seen them?!” They stand up alarmingly fast, racerback tank getting caught on a doorstopper and causing them to trip all the way to the window. “MotherFUCKER. CARL!” 

Bucky stares incredulously after the foulmouthed person who just dashed barefoot down the hallway screaming at “Carl” about begonia theft. 

Maybe he should’ve gone with Sam’s idea instead.

**xXx**

****_****_****____________That’s not the oddest conversation he’ll have with Begonia Man, whose name is Ivor but who still rings in Bucky’s brain as Begonia Man. Ivor seems to either not know about Bucky’s past or not care, which is honestly a bit refreshing. With Ivor, he’s not the Winter Soldier. He’s not a former assassin. He’s not brainwashed. He’s not picking up the shambles of a life he never lived. He’s just... James.

“So, Jimmy -“

”Veto.”

”Kay, then. So, James, what’s your stance on dogs?”

Bucky thinks for a minute. “I like them fine.” 

Ivor grins. “We’re going to the dog park.” 

They do, indeed, go to the dog park despite not owning dogs (“Only because they won’t let you have pets, which is honestly a travesty. Sir, that is my emotional support Jack Russell Terrier. I see him and I am instantly emotional.”) and Bucky discovers that animals can go on the list of “Does Not Make a Huge Deal About My Horrible Past”. He totally doesn’t cry, even if Ivor only silently passes him a packet of tissues from somewhere (not those painted-on jeans, honey) and pats the little Pomeranian settled comfortably on Bucky’s lap. 

On the way home, Ivor regales him with the best puns he knows (“Oh, god, Halloween in rural Illinois is a-maize-ing. Get it? It’s a double pun! I know. I’m pun-ishingly bad.”) and Bucky appreciates that he never asks questions. 

Later, Bucky thinks he might’ve actually made a friend.

**xXx**

Ivor has all his own demons, though, and occasionally he stares too hard at a white minivan or he sees a redheaded woman and immediately takes the long way around - and Bucky asks no questions, just bobs and weaves with him and lays a metal hand on his shoulder, unequivocal support against demons internal and external, and mostly Ivor relaxes.

Some days Ivor isn’t very chipper, and they stay on his old, green sofa with flowers that he says were once red like a hundred years ago and watch Netflix. There’s a lot of media Bucky isn’t caught up on and it’s hard, very hard, when they reference things he doesn’t understand. Luckily, Ivor’s always willing to pause every five minutes to explain what’s happening. 

Some days Bucky has nightmares and visions from points throughout history - the 40s, the 90s, they’re all the same and all different and they all make his head pound. Those days Ivor seems to just Know, and he sits, lazily dozing in front of his door, in silent invitation for Bucky to do whatever he well pleases, be that hole himself up in his room or join him on the floor. 

The neighbor across the hall is very Mormon and very convinced that they’re gay lovers. Bucky shrugs and Ivor laughs.

”He’s not my type, but you’re looking _good_ today, Mr. Johnson.” 

**xXx**

Natasha visits eventually, as all friends are wont to do, and it’s really inevitable that she meets Ivor. 

Especially considering she climbed in through Bucky’s bedroom window while they discuss cheese in the small kitchenette. 

“French sheep cheese -“

”You turned me off at ‘French’.” 

“ _Blasphemy_. Anyways, French sheep cheese is good, but I’ll always be a sucker for cheddar. I’d ask your opinion but you’ve already proven to be a man of poor taste.” 

Bucky laughs and Nat strolls in, sliding into a chair. “I have to agree with Ivor, here. French cheese is quite flavorful.” 

“Traitor,” Bucky grumbles mockingly while Ivor splutters at the Strange Woman (From James’s _Bedroom_!?!) who just sat at the table and apparently lives here now. 

Natasha gives him a cool, unsubtle once-over that has Bucky rolling his eyes. “I preferred the blue. Red’s not your color. But you need a better hair stylist. I can give you mine if you want.” 

Ivor touches his hair, face a little offended. “I like red.”

Natasha pulls a face. “Red doesn’t like you.” 

“That’s it,” Bucky sighs. “Natasha, stop trying to intimidate my friend. Be nice. Ivor, meet Nat. She has no personal boundaries or kindness filters and she will beat you at poker when you’ve got the winning hand.” 

Ivor offers a small handshake and a confused smile, probably still wondering how Natasha got in and if she’s sleeping with Bucky and if his gaydar is malfunctioning (it’s not). 

But a gentleman never kisses and tells, and Bucky’s ma always raised him to be a gentleman.

**xXx**

If meeting Natasha was like meeting snake in a grease pit in Peru (confusing and slippery with a poor aftertaste) then meeting Sam is like meeting Bruce Willis in a poorly-lit Denny’s parking lot. 

Ivor’s lips slip apart and his eyes open comically wide and his glasses almost fall off his nose in his excitement as he grabs Bucky’s (real) arm and shakes hard. 

“Ohmygod it’s the FALCON!” he says quietly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning stupidly. 

Bucky sighs. “Hey, Sam.” 

Sam jogs over with a German Shepard in tow and gives him a half-hug. “Hey, man. How you doin’?” 

Bucky shrugs. “Not bad. Meet Ivor. Ivor, Sam.” 

Ivor is still attached to his arm as a leech and he squeaks a small “hello” as Sam looks at him peculiarly and then threateningly. “Hey, Bucky is -“

”Big fan, Mr. Falcon, sir.” Ivor manages to say without fainting, though he does sound a little breathy. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry. I’m not stupid. I’m just panicking.” 

Sam’s expression makes Bucky’s fingers itch for a camera as Ivor’s face flushes a deep pink and he hides halfway behind Bucky’s bulk and counts on Bucky being too nice to move away. 

Bucky moves away and Sam beams at a terrified and mildly annoyed Ivor, who shoots him a “seriously, dude?” look and stares at Sam’s dog, who’s wagging his tail ecstatically and heeling by Sam’s side. 

“I’ve never met a Falcon Fan before.” Sam offers Ivor a hand to shake. “Sam Wilson.” 

Ivor takes it reverently. “Ivor Campbell.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you -“ Sam gets out. 

The next thing Ivor sees is sky and a wet tongue and a furry body crushing his ribcage.

“George is happy to meet you, too.” 

“My ribs are not happy to meet George.” 

Bucky just stands back and records on his phone. 

**xXx**

Ivor still doesn’t seem aware of Bucky and Natasha’s superstar status everywhere they go. Natasha took Bucky and Ivor shopping once and at least three little girls stopped Nat for her autograph and one little kid fist-bumped Bucky’s prosthetic with their own. 

When Bucky talks about life in the 30s, Ivor takes it lightly, telling goofy tales about the 1700s. 

When Bucky tells him very bluntly that he’s killed people, Ivor tells him mock-seriously that as a Civil War general, so has he. 

When Bucky mentions killing JFK, Ivor laughs and says “mood”. 

Bucky’s getting a little worried. 

They stage an intervention on a lazy summer day with nothing planned - nothing to miss if all goes south. 

Nat comes in through the bathroom and Sam is a Normal Person who lets himself in the door and they all sit Ivor on the couch, who very bemusedly looks like he’s waiting for one of them to start tap-dancing. 

“Is this a pun-intervention? I’ve had those before. Very inter-taining.” 

“Ivor, have you heard of the Avengers?” 

“Natasha, are you Russian?” 

Sam stifles a laugh. “And you’ve heard of Natasha.” 

“The Black Widow, yeah. Why?” 

Bucky blinks. “You know?”

“I’m not a bad guy.” Ivor looks at his nails. “Oof, that one’s chipping. I’m not an invader unless you listen to Alex Jones. What have I got to worry about?” 

“So do you know who Bucky is?” 

“... A very cool person?” 

“The Winter Soldier.” 

“Oh. That. Not really him, though, is it? I mean, brainwashing and everything.” Ivor waves his hand. “Big mess. Not a lot of happy people. Tabula rasa and all that. What about it?” 

“You know?” Sam raises an eyebrow. “You do not act like it.” 

Ivor sits up straight. “Like what? He’s going to crush my head in? Please. James helped me plant new peonies when Carl stole my begonias. He fist-bumps small children and loves the dog park. Ooh, vicious. Bad reps aren’t all they’re cracked up to be for mascara-wearing nerds.” 

“I’m not a nerd.” 

“You binged all of TNG and then immediately bought a Starfleet chevron shirt. You’re a nerd, Barnes.” 

“You binged it, too.” 

“I am also a nerd.” 

Natasha smiles one of her small you-have-to-really-know-her smiles and Sam laughs a little. 

“You’re weird.” 

“Yeah.” Ivor grins. “Isn’t it great?” 

**xXx**

“Quick, that guy who hates the dog park is on!” Ivor lunges for the radio and turns it up loud from his seat at the back of the pile. Bucky’s head is in his lap because he’s braiding his hair, Sam is draped across his shoulder, and Natasha is leaning back into Sam, looking almost slightly relaxed for once in her life. “Oh, god, I love this guy. He’s so fucking high all the time.” 

Natasha’s fingers tap silently at her phone, perpetually at work even when she isn’t, Sam responds with a small snuggle closer, and Bucky hums his agreement, closing his eyes. 

His life is not peaceful. His life has never been peaceful. But his life is now chaotic in a way he can control, in a way he’s learned to love, and really, what good is peace anyway compared to what he has with his friends?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the guy who hates the dog park is Cecil Palmer.


End file.
